


Collection of Moments with Effie Trinket

by RebelxPen



Series: The Mannerly Series [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 7,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelxPen/pseuds/RebelxPen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are a collection of tumblr prompts for Effie Trinket. It will be a series of moments shared between Effie and others, and often, they'll be quite short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "I wish you were dead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During one year of the Hunger Games, Haymitch and Effie watch the screen as their young Tributes are killed. This is a glimpse into the emotions that follow.

Liquor soaked the wall and shards of glass littered the floor just below. Haymitch's words lashed out like whips, "I wish you were dead." 

Effie sat in wide eyed silence, staring at the screen as the faces of the District 12 Tributes were emblazoned across the Arena sky. They were young this year, younger than any she had reaped before. She hadn’t expected them to go so soon, so brutally. Sitting there with her posture perfect as always, Effie clasped her fingers tightly to hide the way they shook. 

It felt like a knife to the heart as she sat reeled against the scene playing out on the screen, against the assault of his words. Effie closed her eyes and let out a trembling breath as memories of their little faces, the way their mothers’ stony expressions of dread shattered and their knees buckled in the crowd. 

People thought Effie was untouched, they thought she loved every minute of her job here in the Capitol--but inside, inside she felt a new chip set in, a new sliver break away. She was the Grim Reaper, the kiss of Death, and for the children of District 12, she was the gateway to their own personal hell. It was no surprise that Haymitch wished her dead. Better her than those children each year.

After a long, quiet moment, when she trusted her voice not to break, she raised her eyes to look at him,

"So do I."

 


	2. Even Heroes need a Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta needs a hug, and that hug melts away a piece of the Capitol statue that is Effie Trinket.

Effie had been chattering away about anything and nothing when, out of habit, she’d reached out to sweep a loose hair back into place atop Peeta’s head. All those times helping the stylists keep the children camera ready had ingrained the habit so deeply within her that Effie wasn’t sure she’d ever break it.

Halfway through the gesture, Effie’s shoulders slumped and she offered Peeta an apologetic smile, “Oh, now, just look at me…” she sighed, “I—” but she was cut off by Peeta’s strong arms wrapping around her waist as he crushed her into a sudden hug. 

At first, Effie stiffened, her arms up and out at her sides in shock. She gave the hugs, she was never given any. Still, once she realized what was happening, Effie melted and her arms slowly lowered to circle Peeta’s shoulders, resting her head against his as she returned the embrace, rubbing his back. 

"There," she said gently, her voice quiet. "It’s all right, dear. It’s all right…" 

Effie had never felt like such a liar in her life. 


	3. "Allow me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch has a meeting with President Coin in District 13 and Effie helps him get ready.

 Years. They had known each other for years, and yet Effie still felt like she didn’t know Haymitch at all. Her place as the Escort of District 12 had been her first official employment, Haymitch had been her first experience outside of the Capitol—he’d even christened the occasion by vomiting all over her favorite dress moments before she was meant to go on stage and perform her first reaping. 

Every day they spent together since had been filled with volatile emotions, chaotic whirlwinds of the Hunger Games and everything that came with them. They fought, they ignored one another, they pretended to be indifferent, but sometimes, every so often there would be moments—brief and few—where Effie wondered if there might be some chance for them to have been friends.

Perhaps in another life.

When the Rebellion took flame, and the Capitol fell, Effie hadn’t been surprised to find she had been left behind, left in the dark. What surprised the Escort had been seeing Haymitch come back for her. Now she was living in this drab little bunker in their drab little colors, and Haymitch had become the front man, the one at Katniss’ side to help put a voice to her image. 

Effie found that she didn’t quite mind it. She didn’t mind being in the background, unseen and unheard save for her styling advice before the show. Days like these, she amused herself with simply watching and fussing over those who weren’t quite paying enough attention to how they looked. 

With a patient smile, she shook her head and gracefully crossed the room to slip between Haymitch and the faded mirror. 

"Here," she said, not quite meeting his eyes as she adjusted his lapels and smoothed the shoulders of his jacket. 

He’d come so far, fought so hard to rise up out of the ashes that the Capitol had left him in, fought so hard to make himself someone those children could rely on… And day by day, the more she watched—because Effie did quite a lot of that—she found that she admired him. 

"—Allow me." 

 


	4. Happy to see Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch rescues Effie

Exhausted, her head throbbing from the rush of adrenaline that still hadn’t quite passed since he appeared in the doorway of her cell, Effie stared up at the mentor—that oh so familiar face—and her eyes misted with warm tears. Her bare lips smiled up at him, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. Sitting there, she did her best to sift through the thousands of thoughts and feelings swirling inside of her. 

The only one she could make out was gratitude, and an overwhelming relief of having him here. Slowly, her hand trembling badly, Effie reached up to cup his cheek and brush her thumb over his rough cheekbone as he leaned over her, his hand heavy on her shoulder. 

"I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to see you," she whispered, her voice breaking as she tried her best to smile more brightly. Softly, she leaned forward, raised her chin, and very, very gently pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and let them linger as her tears finally spilled.

 


	5. Facing Herself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie faces herself and her feelings for a certain Mentor.

They’d known one another for agonizing years, surviving tragedy after deliberate tragedy and trying not to get burned up in the aftermath. As it happened, Haymitch had known Effie better and longer than anyone. It really was astounding how well you could come to know a person just by arguing with them. 

In the Quarter Quell, Effie thought they’d grown closer, something had shifted, softened, but then he was gone. They were all gone and Effie was left behind to face the Peacekeepers alone. As she was taken prisoner, as she was questioned and worse, Effie was surprised to find she wasn’t upset with Haymitch for keeping the plan from her. 

She was, however, ashamed. She was ashamed and she was embarrassed that he couldn’t trust her to be part of things, that she’d made him somehow believe that she couldn’t be part of the team. All that talk, crying in front of them, she’d shown one of the most honest pieces of herself and yet it wasn’t enough. 

She deserved the arrest and what followed, but through it all it made her realize that she cared how Haymitch Abernathy saw her. She wanted him to think well of her, wanted him to trust her, wanted him to see her differently than the rest of the Capital. 

The fact that he left her behind was proof that what she wanted was impossible. It didn’t stop her from wishing, though, and then one day he appeared out of nowhere and left her head spinning as he fought to keep her alive, keep her close. 

Their story was a long one, an ugly one, and now Effie was just as bare and exposed as her unpainted face. She did, she loved him, but she could never tell him. 

 


	6. A Kiss on the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie tucks Haymitch in and kisses his forehead.

Long lashes tickled her cheeks as Effie watched Haymitch sleeping across the room. He had dozed off while watching the Games, his head falling back against the back of the couch, one arm draped over pillows. None of the team had slept much, not that they usually did while their Tributes were in the arena. This time was worse, though, this time it wasn’t Tributes, this time it was Victors. 

Victors that deserved better, that  _earned_  better. The Games chipped a little away from the souls of all they touched each year, a chip for each child, but this time Effie wasn’t sure how they would recover, how they could put a plaster over the wounded hearts and move on, how they would keep a smile on, and their chins up. She had never seen Haymitch show attachment like this, never seen his hard, jagged edges so soft and sanded down. 

Their relationship over the years had been strained at best, but amidst the shouting and the stubbornness, amidst the mockery and taunting, they had formed an uneasy friendship and Effie feared what losing Katniss and Peeta might do to the Mentor—she already knew what it would do to her. 

Standing, she quietly slipped out of her high heels and took a blanket from the back of her seat. Crossing the room, she unfolded it and draped it over Haymitch’s lap, very carefully taking the flask from his hand to lay it on the table before turning to look at him again. 

_What a mess we’re in…_

Quietly moving around him, Effie paused at his arm, looking back at him, hesitating for only a moment before touching his shoulder and very softly touching her lips to his forehead. 

"I’m so sorry…"

 


	7. "Don't leave me," - Katniss & Effie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss asks Effie to stay.

"Don't leave," the girl wept. "Effie, don't go--Just stay with us, please--"

Effie hadn’t left in the first place, she’d been the one left behind, she had been the one taken while everyone else escaped to the Rebellion. She had never wanted to be separated from her team, from Katniss and Peeta. But even amidst knowing all this, Effie knew it wasn’t Katniss’ choosing, she hadn’t been the one to decide. Tears stung her eyes, the urge to cry tangled up in her throat, because hearing this coming from Katniss—hearing that Katniss actually wanted her to stay was nothing short of heartbreaking.

Effie could only stand there and stare, her fingers hiding her lips as they quivered, “Katniss—” she gasped softly.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Effie was speechless. Before she could stop herself, Effie was crossing the distance between them, her arms stretching out and wrapping around the girl to pull her in close, hugging her tight as large salty tears dropped onto her shoulder. 

"I won’t, I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you, sweetie."

 


	8. Crumbled Composure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss finds Effie crying.

In all the levels of this wretched bunker, there was barely space to breathe. It was cramped, and dirty, and closed up tight to the point Effie could barely think straight. For all her efforts, Plutarch refused to let her hide away in her room with the few remaining strips of her wardrobe, and for all her efforts to be chipper and helpful, Effie found that she just couldn’t keep up the mask as long as she used to. 

So, when she could, she found herself locked in a little narrow hallway that never seemed to be used and she would cry. Effie would cry and hold herself, hugging her ribs and letting everything pour out of her eyes in hard, wracking sobs where no one could see or hear. 

She wept for all the lives lost in this rebellion, she wept for the constant threat that hung over everyone’s head like a little dark raincloud. She cried for her part in giving these people a reason to fight, for the names she’d called. She cried for the way she had tried to force the children facing death to actually smile about it. 

And most of all, she cried because she didn’t know if she could survive living like this, living with herself. Her mind was a tangled mess of confusion, spiraling in the dark, and lost. When she heard footsteps, Effie started, her body jolting almost painfully as her head snapped up to see who was there. 

"Katniss—" she gasped, "—I was just," breaking off, she swept her fingers against her cheeks, swiping the water away, the tears, and infinitely grateful that she had no make up to run. "I just needed a moment, it’s so terribly crowded up there."

 


	9. Take it back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the middle of a fight with Haymitch, Effie blurts out that she loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hayffie tumblr prompt.

Effie saw the words spilling from her mouth like vomit. She could feel them on her tongue like hot coals and even as she said them, she knew that she’d made a horrible mistake. Her heart crashed in her ears, her breathing shallow and fast as he stared back at her with cold, wide eyes that Effie couldn’t decide how to read. Was that horror, or rage?

She felt hot and cold all at once, her hands clenched into fists at her stomach, pressing into the knot that sank there like an icy rock. He advanced on her, and it was all Effie could do not to backpeddle. 

"I said," she swallowed hard, struggling to keep her voice even. His eyes were practically wild, as if she’d threatened to burn his world to the ground with three little words. Effie’s shoulders dropped, the motion barely losing any height, but with her pristine posture, it might as well have been an avalanche. 

"I said that I  _love_ you, you brute of a man!” Her eyes stung and felt wet, hot with tears that she prayed wouldn’t fall and make her mascara run. “Is that so hard to believe? Is that such a bad thing?” 

Effie stepped forward and he stepped back, retreating. “Haymitch, we’ve worked together for ten years! We’ve been through hell, we’ve cheered and grieved together and—” 

"—Don’t!" 

Effie started, going quiet, giving him a chance to say something more, but when he said nothing, she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and watched him begin to pace like a caged animal. 

"Haymitch," she hedged, her voice quiet as she waited to see if he would interrupt again. He continued to pace, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "I know that I may seem like the enemy, but I care about you. Everything I do, everything I say—" he glared at her, made her pause, but she shook her head and stepped toward him one small step. "I know you. I see how you try to push everyone away, how you try to keep yourself from being desirable at all, but you are my friend—" 

He stopped and gripped his hands at the countertop near the liquor bar, dropping his head low between his shoulders as his knuckles went white. “Stop—” he grit out. “Stop it!” 

She shook her head, “Haymitch, I—” 

He whirled, “Effie, just shut _up!”_


	10. "I wish you were mine" - Haymitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late at night in District 13, Haymitch whispers something he thinks Effie won't hear in her sleep.

It was the third night in a row that Haymitch showed up at her door with a mysterious bottle of bad booze and an unfamiliar smile. In this dreary place, Effie didn’t have the heart or desire to turn him away, and so in he came.

"They’re going to catch you with that bottle one night, or catch you with it on your breath or hungover, and then we’ll both be in trouble," she told him as she closed the door behind him. 

Of course, he only laughed and offered her the bottle. Everything had changed so much, and nothing was certain anymore. In one afternoon, Effie had lost everything—her friends, her livelihood, her home, and all she had left was a poor frightened girl and scruffy brute of a man that—until recently—she believed hated her. Mere weeks ago, Effie would have laughed at him for knocking on her door, assumed he was drunk, or trying to get under her skin to make her react. 

Making her lose her temper had always seemed like his favorite past time. 

But now? Now, Effie was sat in a stone and iron bunker deep beneath the ground, wearing grey and without makeup or wigs. Now Effie found herself sitting with her back to one wall, while he sat opposite, trading a bottle of bitter alcohol back and forth as they talked and laughed as though they’d been friends for years. 

Tonight they fell asleep talking, or at least, Effie fell asleep. At some point she had shifted around to sit beside him, instead of across from him, leaning shoulder to shoulder. Her head fell to his shoulder, her eyes slid closed, and the alcohol dragged her into darkness, but she wasn’t out for long. She woke without stirring, her eyes blinking softly as she felt his head turn, felt him press his lips to the top of her head and breathe in, 

"I wish you were mine," he breathed out. 

Effie felt her heart stop, but she didn’t move. She didn’t dare. Once, quite a long time ago in the midst of a horrible fight, Effie had blurted out that she loved him only to bring even more disaster down between them in the wake of two young deaths in the arena. Now, here at the end of the world he was whispering he wanted her in the dark while thinking she slept. 

Nobody wanted Effie Trinket, not the woman, only her skills. Only what she could do for them. She didn’t have the courage to speak, to let him know she was awake. A sudden fear gripped her, the thought of ruining the last few nights of quiet, genuine friendship with him too difficult to risk it, so she sighed softly and turned into his shoulder more, settling in against him better and letting her eyes remain closed. 

_Tell me again in the morning and I will be…_


	11. "Don't push me away, you need me." -Haymitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt. Effie's having a harder time coping than she lets people see, but Haymitch is more observant than she thought. "Don't push me away, you need me." - Haymitch to Effie in 13.

Her heart was racing and Effie could feel things crawling beneath her skin, burning through her veins as she scratched her fingertips over her skin. Everything felt too close, too final, and yet—too uncertain. Everything was coming to an end and the closer it came to ending, the closer Effie felt herself to panic. 

Haymitch had stayed nearby, available, someone for her to talk to, and even that suddenly had her worrying. Rather than leaning into him, Effie began to pull away, trying to redesign her wardrobe, remake her own makeup, and spent more and more time away from the group. 

He must have noticed, because here he was, standing with his back to her door, keeping her trapped inside her room. She remained in her seat as long as she could, one ankle tucked behind another and her fingers shakily trying to maintain a straight line of stitching on the skirt she’d been working to finish. The shaking was too much and gave up, dropping the fabric, stabbing her thumb in the process. 

Effie shot to her feet, putting her thumb to her lips, her pale skin making the dark crimson drop look brighter in the odd lighting of her room.

“ _You’re_ saying that to  _me?”_ she asked, incredulous as she fluttered around the table to find a bandage. 

"—Effie," 

She whirled on him, her eyes widen and frightened, angry, “Effie!” she snapped back at him, the tremble in her fingertips crawling up her arms and shaking in her shoulders. “You left me there, Haymitch! You plotted and twisted behind the scenes while I wept like a fool in front of you all and then left me to be arrested and—” 

Backing away from him, Effie shook her head and didn’t stop until she bumped into the wall and started as if it had been a person grabbing hold of her from behind.

Haymitch remained still, his jaw clenching, a muscle jerking in his cheek as his eyes softened on her. He knew she’d been through hell in there, but what she’d gone through was nothing less than anybody else had gone through from the Capitol’s hands. That didn’t mean he liked seeing her like this, or didn’t regret leaving her like that. 

“ _Princess,”_  he tried again, softer, and as he spoke, he forced himself to look her in those big, frightened blue eyes. “It’s not what you think. Just let me—” 

"Let you what?" she demanded roughly, her eyes swimming and the tears catching the light. "How many times did I try to be there for you? To talk to you when you were hurting and needed someone? You didn’t want me there then, didn’t want me close, and you proved that when you—" 

He growled, the sound a rush from his chest as he swore under his breath. He took the ground between them, coming closer and only stopping when he saw her flinch, inches from her, “I came back for you, dammit!” 

It was true, he had, but she couldn’t understand why. 

His voice softened, and he reached out a hand. “I came back for you, Effie, and I’m here now.” 

Effie met his gaze, her lower lip quivering as her knees threatened to buckle, surrendering to the fact that he was here whether she understood it or not. 

"What am I going to do, Haymitch?" she asked, her voice weak and quivering as she fought to give it volume. "I don’t have anywhere to go, I don’t have anyone to go to—" closing her eyes, she dropped her chin and bit her lip hard, making the natural pink tones go white. "—The only people in this entire bunker who don’t hate me are you and Katniss and I—" 

He swore again, the word vicious, the tone a plea and crushed her to his chest. “You’re staying with us,” he said roughly against her ear. “You’re staying with us. We’re a team.”


	12. "You broke my heart" - Haymitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch has a heart after all, and Effie broke it. Very short moment.

"I broke  _your_ heart?” 

Effie’s voice cracked with emotion she tried to hold back. Life in District 13 had been difficult, a challenge, but not as challenging as all her years working alongside him. 

"Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear something like that from you, Haymitch?" She could feel the tears gathering in her eyes, not quite falling. "Do you have any idea how hard, and how long I’ve tried to just simply be your friend? Hoping— _just once_ —for a sincere word? Just one?” 

Each attempt had been met with sharp words, whiskey tainted arrows that were aimed straight for her heart every time. 

"I am—" she shuddered, overcome by the feelings finally rushing to the surface, bursting over the dam she’d built. Her eyes slid closed, seeking any sort of strength, of privacy from how exposed she felt in that moment. "—I am  _sorry_ if I have hurt you, Haymitch, but you broke my heart first.”


	13. "Don't push me away, you need me." -Johanna Mason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't push me away, you need me."   
> In District 13, Effie finds she's pregnant from an accidental one night stand with Haymitch. She only tells Johanna Mason and the Victor takes it upon herself to watch out for Effie and the upcoming baby, but Effie's struggling with the situation.

Effie was tired—tired of so many things. This odd little guardianship Johanna Mason had taken upon herself was only one point on a very long list. She sighed tiredly, sinking back against the cushions of the couch, pressing her scented handkerchief to her lips, softly sniffing at it to let the mint chase away the nausea. 

"Johanna," she said, straining for patience. "You  _clearly_ don’t want to be here, and you have made it very clear that you’re not interested in children. Why would you want to stay?” 

Shaking her head, she looked up at the younger woman, her face a mask of numb neutrality. “I am giving you an  _out,_ dear. You are not obligated to stay here with me, simply because I have gotten myself into a bit of a mess. I can figure it out,” Letting out a shaky breath, Effie closed her eyes. “I always do.”


	14. Dear President Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie's letter of resignation. All the veiled sass is here.

Dear President Snow,

> I write to you with a heavy heart. For ten years I have served the Capitol, ensuring a crisp, clean, and efficient service as the Escort of District 12. It has been considered an honor, a privilege to hold such a position; and yet, I must write you now and offer my letter of resignation. 
> 
> You see, the working conditions for this position have simply deteriorated too rapidly for a lady to bear. Between the uprisings, and the threats made toward any persons involved in the Hunger Games, my nerves simply can’t take the stress. I’m sure a professional gentleman like yourself can understand that. I’m also certain that you have only the best interests of all your people in mind and intend to put their needs before your own as you strive to bring peace to the people of Panem. 
> 
> That’s only the least of a President’s responsibilities, after all. I know that so many of us think highly of you, and if Seneca Crane were still alive today (the poor dear), he would be singing your praises from the highest. I hope you are still seeking the person(s) responsible for poor Mr. Crane’s death. He was far too young and bright to leave our lovely Nation so soon. But, then, I’m certain you haven’t had peace of mind since he vanished. He was always so intent on serving you.
> 
> Forgive me, I know this may be out of place, but as this is my final word to you, I believe it will be forgiven due to your generous and merciful nature. 
> 
> I wish you peace and happiness, and the good sleep of an honest man, 
> 
> Sincerely, 
> 
> Effie Trinket
> 
> Hunger Games Employee
> 
> Escort, District 12


	15. Dear Katniss,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt, "Dear person I'm jealous of,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Effie writes to Katniss

Dear Katniss, 

You are a stubborn, hot headed girl with no sense of fashion. You’re uncooperative, difficult, defensive, and if you keep rolling your eyes so much, one day they’ll stay that way. However, for all your faults, I have never met anyone with such an enormous, bleeding heart. 

If I had half the heart that you do, if I had half as many people that cared about me as you do, my life would be so very different. You are everything I wish I could be—brave, honest, full of conviction, compassion, and you have the courage to do what’s right, even when it could cost you your life. 

When I think of everything I’ve done in my life, simply because I’ve been afraid, I’m ashamed of myself, I can’t look myself in the mirror. For as much as I’ve tried to shape and mold you into being more like me, it’s really I who would benefit from being more like you. 

I adore you, Katniss, and I will always be here to help you in any way I can. I just hope you can forgive me for my part in everything you’ve gone through. 

Jealously yours,

    Effie


	16. Effie in the Mirror (Pt1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Effie about fashion, how she feels about it, how she uses it in some way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Atenea/voilamissdior

Blue eyes stared back at her in the clean glass mirror. Makeup lay in perfectly organized rows and collections on the vanity table at her fingertips. Soft, loose blond curls framed a porcelain white face, making her eyes stand out more brightly than seemed natural. She hated herself without makeup, hated looking in the mirror, hated looking in those eyes that should be familiar because they were her own. She felt exposed without her makeup, exposed and naked. 

Without her makeup, Effie could see the faces of the other Districts, the blonde hair and blue eyes of the people in the higher classes of District 12. She saw herself as someone who could just as easily have been born to another family and Reaped. She saw herself as someone who could just as easily be entering that Arena, rather than ushering others into it. 

Effie reached for a brush and a compact, breaking the gaze of the woman staring back at her, a stranger’s eyes, and focussed her attention on each section of her skin that needed covering up. Her daily routine began at 4 AM sharp, and it wouldn’t end until every piece of her ordinary appearance was covered and hidden beneath the pristine and perfect Capitol Couture—it wouldn’t end until she could not be mistaken or considered for something she was not. 

At the end of the day, when she looked in the mirror, all she wanted to see were those blue eyes staring back at her from behind the mask that kept her safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only one aspect and feeling Effie has toward her makeup and fashion. It's honestly a very complex and complicated aspect of her character that can really only be explained in layers and different contexts. I think I'll be posting shorts like this in parts as I feel inspired, or as I receive prompts and questions to further explain other angles to the idea.


	17. A Dangerous Whim -- Katniss and Effie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living in the Victor Village with Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss, Effie can't stand the quiet any longer and takes matters into her own hands.

It had been a whim--choosing to dump that water on Katniss Everdeen's head--a dangerous whim, but Effie was going to lose her mind in this place if something didn't happen sometime. Being convinced to move to the Victors Village with her team had been a lovely gesture, though challenging, however they were terrible conversationalists. 

Even Peeta, the most charming of the three, would go days on end without speaking if he were having an off week. Haymitch spoke mostly to his geese or grunted, and Katniss was—well, Katniss. She never said much, she merely hovered around, stalking like a cat that watched from afar without deigning to acknowledge the fact that she did indeed want your attention. 

Effie couldn’t take the silence any longer. She was used to conversation, to parties, to at least a “Good morning,” with her coffee, but no. Even today, Katniss had sat on that porch for over an hour without so much as an, “Hello, Effie—” 

So, the retired escort decided to take matters into her own hands and upended the bowl of ice water right over her head and then dashed out into the yard with a laugh as Katniss screeched after her. 

”Eff… what the.. what the hell was this for?!” 

"To wake you up!" she replied, beaming back at her handy work. "Why, Katniss, I do believe you might be sporting a new trend! The wet look could be all the rage!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr thread with http://sunsetorangemockingjay.tumblr.com. 
> 
> To read more, follow this link: http://teawithtrinket.tumblr.com/tagged/;;happy%20days%20are%20here


	18. Unmaksed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie Trinket dealing with herself. Even people who act like they have it all together can have an existential crisis from time to time.

Effie’s head pounded between her temples, and at the base of her skull as she huddled over the scraps of fabric she managed to salvage–that her team had managed to salvage for her. Her tiny little bunker in District 13 felt like a coffin, a paradox of concrete and steel enveloping her and holding her captive, and yet keeping her safe. She knew the moment the Arena went dark that she had been left behind, that for whatever reasons she refused to think about, her team had not believed her to be trustworthy enough to join them. 

The Peacekeepers hadn't understood, however, and her ignorance was no excuse, and offered no pardon. Weeks dragged out, and each day horrors were committed right before her very eyes–everything she tried her best not to see, everything she pretended wasn’t true, it all played out and she was forced to watch. 

When she was rescued, Effie felt like there might not be enough of her left to save, but they took her anyway. Haymitch took her anyway. 

He was the last one she expected to see, but he fought for her valiantly, especially before the Council of 13 who wished to see her punished for her crimes. She had been pardoned–thanks to Haymitch and Katniss–but ever since then, she had hidden herself away in her bunk and no one had come looking for her. 

Katniss was busy with whatever freedom and reunions the poor deer could scrape up, and Haymitch–she didn’t know where he was, or understand why he hadn’t come to speak with her. Perhaps he still didn’t think her trustworthy. One could save another from death, and yet not care to see them live. It said more about him than how he felt about her, and Effie knew better than anyone how Haymitch had seen more than enough deaths in his lifetime. 

People knew where she stayed, and at various times of the day and night she would hear them shouting at her door, pounding at it as they threw the accusations and saved up venom through the cold steel at her. It was difficult enough simply going to the dining hall for food and coming back again, she couldn’t face any of them, couldn’t face the cold looks and harsh words. She knew she deserved it, especially from those of District 12, yet each word sank deep like a knife. 

When Plutarch finally came to speak with her, his words rattled her to the bone, making her shoot up to her feet and draw her pink silk up close to her chest like a shield. He wanted her to go out, to leave her safe little coffin and be among them--rebels.

“Not like this–” she gasped, her hand rising to indicate her naked face. 

As vain as it seemed, she felt naked, more exposed without her makeup, without her wigs. She was tired, her body ached, wounds inside and out throbbing with her racing heart. 

She made it about her appearance, whatever dignity she might have left, but inside she knew better. Even barefaced and wigless, her fashion was just as much a mask as ever. Inside she knew that she didn’t have the courage to face those people, and she didn’t have the courage to risk what they might justifiably do to her if she tried. 

Effie Trinket knew herself, and she knew two things better than any other: She was selfish, and she was a coward.


	19. Crumbling World - Hayffie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie can't make it to the base levels when the Capitol Bombs 13. Haymitch finds her.

Fear was a very real thing that Effie Trinket was much too familiar with in her lifetime. It was crippling, it stole your voice, it took your freedom and it made you do things that every fiber of your being cried out against. Fear was the mother of regret, and it would be the death of her someday. When the alarms rang out throughout District 13, and the voice spoke calmly for everyone to make their way to the lowest levels, Effie made it as far as her bunker door before she froze. A sea of faces, screaming, weeping, fearful faces were flooding by, and the escort felt every ounce of breath leave her lungs in a rush. 

A cold sweat broke out from head to foot, and her hand gripped the doorway with white knuckles. Once, Effie tried to step out, to propel her feet forward and slip into the crowd, but a face appeared, angry and twisted as it looked up at her, the man’s attention caught by her movement in the corner of his eye. Effie locked eyes with him, and her lip quivered at the hate she saw there. Before she could step back, his hand shot out and he shoved her backward and into her bunk and slammed her door tight. 

Effie stumbled back against the wall, and sank down, hitting the floor roughly as she curled her legs primly to the side. One hand flat against the floor, holding her up, she covered her mouth with the other, flinching as another wave of sirens rang out and the first bomb dropped. She couldn’t leave her bunk. She couldn’t stand the thought of all those people touching her, the crowd closing in, the strangers, or worse–more of those faces glaring back at her as though she were the one dropping the bombs herself.

Another bomb hit, shaking everything, sand raining down around her, and Effie cried out, covering her ears and tucking herself up under her table. Her mind shook with the rest of her, images tangling and confusing themselves with the reality of the moment she was so desperately trying to live through now. Her bunker was flashing between stone and the Capitol penthouse and back again. The sounds were changing between bombs and crumbling rubble to peacekeeper boots and fists pounding on the floor and doors. 

Her name was being shouted, angry and demanding, muffled behind a peacekeeper helmet–behind the steel door of her bunker.

_“Effie Trinket?”_

“Effie!” 

_“Effie Trinket!”_

“Effie Trinket–what the hell–” 

 Hands were reaching out for her, white gloves closing around her arms, and she screamed, her hands pushing and striking against a wide, strong chest. They shook her–

“Effie, dammit,  _look_  at me!” 

Her eyes opened, her lip quivering violently as tears pooled around her lashes. There was no peacekeeper looking back at her. It was Haymitch. The moment he saw recognition dawn in her eyes, his face softened and he went down on one knee, drawing her to him and wrapping her up in his arms as she curled up against him. It was too late to make it to the bunker, and now he was stuck here with her. 

“S’all right,” he gruffed against her hair, his arms tight around her, his body covering hers as they huddled in the corner under the table. “I’ve got’cha, Princess.”

She looped a finger around his, one small connection while the world fell apart around them.


	20. I'm Sorry -- Effie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Effie is forced to make a farewell video while imprisoned in the Capitol in an attempt to deal the rebels an emotional blow.

The white walls of the interrogation room were as cold as the winter creeping up outside. Effie lost track of how many days had passed since the peacekeepers stormed her suite, since Katniss shot that arrow and everything went dark. She sat in the hard metal chair, her hands cuffed together in steel restraints–too tight, and painted white to match the rest of this place. They pinched, irritating her pale skin bright red. 

Her makeup was gone, washed away by tears, her hair pulled back and natural, falling messily about her face. Directly across from her was a camera, the lense staring back at her like the barrel of a gun. She was supposed to record a video–to tell her “rebel friends” goodbye, to warn them that they would soon share her fate. She was a warning, a threat, a promise. She was a bullet meant to wound them.

Her shoulders shook as her resolve crumbled, her eyes looking up at the two way mirror behind the camera. 

“I told you I don’t know  _anything!_ ” she shouted, the tears pooling in her eyes again. She shook, trembling from head to foot, trembled so badly that her skin rubbed against the cuffs and scraped. 

“They  _left_  me! Don’t you understand! Do you think I would be here had they cared about me at all? Don’t you think they would have taken me with them if they trusted me?” 

Her shoulders shook with a sob, her head falling forward as she closed her eyes. “I could have been her escort, I could have been her stylist–I  _could_  have, but I’m not! I’m not anybody–You’re wasting–” her throat clenched shut around another strangled sob.

A screech echoed through the room and Effie flinched as a voice spoke through the intercom. 

“ _Miss Trinket_ , have a little dignity, please. Just say the lines we told you to say, and then we’ll take you back to your cell.” 

Nothing mattered anymore. It didn’t matter that she was left in the dark, left behind for the mercy of the Capitol, they still arrested her. They still killed anyone she had ever known, anyone she had ever spoken to–right before her eyes. They still tortured her. 

But worst of all, it didn’t matter that she had loved and cared for her team–because it obviously hadn’t been reciprocated. Effie allowed herself a moment, let the tears fall before attempting to get a hold of herself as she raised her eyes to stare down the camera. 

“My name,” she began, her voice thick and shaking. “is Effie Trinket. I am the Escort of District 12. I am a citizen of the Capitol. I am a friend of the rebels. I am a traitor.” 

Each word was a trembling, weeping mess. How she must look, how she must sound–if she were not exhausted to the bone, if her skin did not ache as much as it did, she might have the energy to be ashamed. 

But no. She felt a calm come over her, knowing the situation to be hopeless. If her team had left her behind, it must have been because they didn’t know they could trust her. How could anyone trust a person that came from the same stock as this? That could turn on their own in such a ruthless, brutal way? 

The script she had been forced to memorize was forgotten, and Effie stared back into the camera, her eyes lighting up through her tears with the sliver of defiance she had left. 

“ _Katniss,_ ” she said, urgency in her tone. “Sweetie, I’m _sorry_. I’m  _so_ sorry. You deserved so much better than this. For what it may be worth–what _little_  it may be worth–I am  _proud_ of you and Peeta. I wish you nothing but the best, but freedom and love for one another.” 

She could hear the shuffling of feet beyond the mirror, and she knew she didn’t have much time. Panic took her breath away, and instinctively, she tried to pull her hands out of the cuffs, her lip quivering as she looked straight into the camera, wide eyed. 

“Hay–Haymitch?” He wasn’t there. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t owe her an answer even if he was on the other side of that glass. “Haymitch–you must know,” the tears flowed freely now, her words drowning in them. “You mean so much to me, your friendship, your–I’m sorry. I should have–I could have–” What? Been better? Been more? 

“Haymitch, I–” 

The door to her left burst open, and the butt of a gun flew toward her, striking her temple, and everything went black. 


	21. 5 Times Kissed - Hayffie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 Times Kissed Meme. Tumblr Drabble Prompt. Hayffie.

The first time they kissed, Effie still had hopes and dreams of becoming somebody grande. Young, certainly, naive, perhaps. She still had hope that maybe, just maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. She still had hope that this set of Tributes might not fall in the Arena like the first set she Reaped. It was only her second year as Escort, there was still time to learn. 

When Haymitch staggered clumsily across the stage to greet her as he had the year before, Effie saw his arms wobbling out, flailing as his feet threatened to topple him over into her. Instinctively, she reached to steady him, but it was a trick. His hands took hold of her, one curling around her thin waist while the other tangled into her wig. She barely had time to squeak in protest before his sour, whiskey tainted lips were crushing against hers. 

The second time was years later, after they’d both found some sort of rhythm to their partnership. They’d learned one another and how to orbit each other without colliding–at least, until Haymitch decided to get frisky, or wanted to rile her up. It was the 70th Hunger Games, and they both thought these two Tributes might just stand a chance. They were both older than most others, they had attitude, they were determined, and they didn’t cower or shake the way the younger, thinner ones did. 

It was the first time Effie dared get excited in ages. This time, after saying their goodbyes, she stood at the beginning of the long hall watching as Haymitch held out his hands to guide them both to their waiting rooms where the tubes would carry them up. Haymitch cast an uneasy glance back at her, and this time, it was Effie who gave the kiss. She placed her lace-gloved fingers to her lips and blew a kiss toward him, her heart swelling inside her chest as she hoped their little team came out the Victors. 

The children both fell–and they fell quickly. They were not bold, they were arrogant, and they ignored every ounce of advice Haymitch had given them. They both ran for the Cornucopia, and the boy slew the girl himself. It was a bloodbath, and Effie dissolved into tears as Haymitch roared like a wounded animal. He stood and the glass bottle in his hands went sailing, shattering against the wall as he paced. 

“Haymitch, please–” Effie begged, looking up at him with watery eyes. 

The rest of the team had retreated, either going to their own homes, or simply stepping out of reach as he glared and stormed about the room. Standing, Effie cautiously stepped toward him, her hand held out, her lip quivering. It was unsightly, it was inappropriate. She shouldn’t weep for them, it wasn’t part of her job to grow attached, but she couldn’t help herself, and she couldn’t help herself reaching out to touch his tense arm, either. 

His head snapped around, his gaze far away and hidden, as if he were somewhere else. The sound of doors closing stole his attention, ripping his gaze away from her, away from the wet stained wall, away from the television. They were alone, and Effie needed to calm him down. Her hand curled around his shoulder and she stepped closer, her other hand slowly coming up to cup his jaw. He was tense, so tense she thought he might be in pain, but he was looking at her now, and he wasn’t fighting her or pushing her away. 

“Haymitch, please,” she whispered, her heart breaking a little more inside. Was he reliving his own games now? Was he back there again? Was this what she was trying to bring new children into? This life of tragedy and eternal nightmares? 

Carefully, Effie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and placed a blue-lipped-kiss to his cheek as she hugged him. “Haymitch, please,” she said again, softer, closing her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

Neither of them hoped anymore after that. Haymitch gave up trying to mentor anyone, his efforts proven useless with their loss in the 70th Games. Effie did her best to be pleasant and ensure the children had the best last days of their lives without getting attached–she couldn’t let herself get attached anymore. Her heart couldn’t take it. 

They found an odd sort of friendship–complicated and hostile as it might be, but they were familiar, at least, amidst all the losses and tedious train rides. Their fourth kiss came in the 75th Hunger Games when both children came out alive. It was a charged moment–everyone caught up in the shock, cheering, yet terrified. Everybody knew there couldn’t be two victors. At least, there had never been two before, but in their little district, with their dozens and dozens of losses, the fact that their children were alive, and whole, if not well, stole their breath away. 

In one brief moment, Haymitch lost himself, crying out and swinging Effie around as she laughed and returned the embrace without thinking. When he set her on her feet, his lips were crushing hers before she could stop him. It was one, brief glow of happiness before reality hit and they were all back to work fighting for the lives of their star crossed lovers. 

Despite all they had been through, all the hope, the disappointment, the grief, their fifth kiss was a kiss goodbye. It was strange, but looking back, Effie knew he was saying goodbye that day. It wasn’t strange that he left the suite while the Games played out. Haymitch often wandered, unable to watch as the tributes fell. No, it was the fact that he stayed so long, that he sat so close, that he actually reached over and took her hand and held it tight that gave him away. 

When it was finally time for him to go, when he sat forward to heft himself up, he turned and looked at her, bringing her pale fingers to his lips and pressed a firm kiss there, lingering, Effie felt her heart sink. 

“Been a hell of a ride, Princess,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. 

Cinna was gone. The children were separated in the arena. Most of their allies were dead. All Effie could think in that moment was that she didn’t want to watch Katniss and Peeta die by herself. She didn’t think she could manage it. But her words were caught in her throat, and he was kissing her hand again, patting it as he stood. 

Effie watched him go, feeling the lingering scratch of his stubble against her knuckles. 


End file.
